


Safe Harbors

by dvske



Series: Count the Ways [8]
Category: Transistor (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drabble, F/F, First Meeting, Introspection, Long-Distance Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 04:14:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7998175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dvske/pseuds/dvske
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is how it starts—a song, a storm, solidarity amidst it all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Safe Harbors

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by ['The Way You Said 'I Love You'](http://rhvme.tumblr.com/post/137729229293/) prompts via a lovely soul on tumblr. Prompt# 20, as we huddle together, the storm raging outside.

This is how it starts;

A beat,

Music, low and languid, steady and soothed. Sound circles overhead as you listen with keen ears. Wordless. Unmoving. Yet your mind is restless. The whole room’s alive and abuzz with energy that nips at your skin, that wraps around each note emitting from the stereo. A smoky voice sings of immortal nights and moonlit passions. Of longing realized, idle hearts brought to life.

A beat,

Your heart pounds in time. Lyrics swim within you, bubbling at your lips. You’re half-humming, half-singing. Absentminded noise you don’t think to control. Don’t have to. She doesn’t mind.

A beat,

The patter of rain on your bedroom window, growing stronger by the second. The wind starts its rumbling, an untamed creature free to roam the night. It pulses against the glass, tugs the world at its seams. Tinkling wind chimes. Swaying branches, wires and poles. Outdoor furnishings are swept about, near-drowned on the lawn. Beyond the window rests the neighborhood’s crest, peppered with lights and flickering in and out of clarity.

Swelling. Shrinking.

One beat, two.

Like a dream, this moment.

A precious moment—

She’s bundled beside you.

Her white-gold tresses fan out in a bloom, spilling onto your bed. Silk to the touch, swallowing your wandering fingers with ease. Her breath ghosts against your skin, warm and rhythmic. Every inch of her, a comfort. She’s slung her arms around your waist, has your legs tangled with hers. And she’s pressed her face snug against your chest as if she hopes to inhale all you are, align her essence with yours.

One beat. Two.

This is where it starts;

A thought.

How easily this moment could be broken.

How desperately you pray it never ends.

You let your hands trail from nape to shoulder. Tracing a path, up and down, from shoulder blade to the curve of her back. Up again, and her heartbeat sings. Down again, and you relish having her this near.

A first in months, all the months you’ve known her. A first — being together, in person — in all the time your lives have intersected.

How far you’ve come from a chance meeting online.

How long you’ve waited.

How right it feels.

How foreign.

_Lover._

Strange, this concept, one you’re still trying to parse out. To have one. To be one. To be filled to the brim with such feelings, tender and alluring, blinding and bright. To have these feelings reciprocated and plain to see after countless nights of second-guessing yourself, of backtracking, of denying the inevitable for fear of your world crashing down.

_If they knew, if they know, if they find out…_

Thoughts of loved ones, all unsuspecting and in the dark about this relationship that was still taking shape. Friends. Family. Careful lies you've constructed to dance around the truth. Your mother was surprisingly without question upon the blonde’s arrival. Curious, with some prying, but not how you expected. Your anxiety quelled for time, but now the question in your mind:

_If they know, so what?_

You’ve told select few of her visit, this long-distance “friend” come all the way from her big city. A couple weeks to connect, to share your hometown at last. So far, it’s played out too easily. Far too easy — it’s _never_ this easy.

_Isn't it?_

“You’ve stopped singing.”

Her voice, soft and muffled.

You pause your tousling of her hair, heave a sigh. “Just thinking.”

“Think less. It’s late.”

“Hard not to.”

“Then talk,” she half-yawns.

One beat,

Two.

How to start?

Slowly.

“It’s just… You ever think some things are too good to be true?”

“Mm.”

“And you start wondering if they’re even real, if they’ll last. Get too lost in what could go wrong, what comes next?”

Her chance to pause.

The song, the CD in your stereo, finally fizzles out to static silence. The beginning grumbles of thunder start to sound from outside.

Ever so slightly, her grip tightens. “And what do you think comes next?”

“You go home.” You slip your eyes shut at the thought, move fingers through her hair once more. “And I miss you. I miss you a lot. It’s not quite the same anymore. Nothing is. One day you’re here, for so long. Or feels long. Then you’re not.”

“Right.”

“Then you get busy. I miss you. I fall back into routine. I miss you. We’re caught up in school and work and family and friends and the Future, snatching whatever bits of time we can just to talk. Or write. And it's okay. But I miss you. I miss you a lot.

“Then, maybe, I miss you so much I do something stupid like…tell my mom what this really is. Tell everyone, consequences be damned. Or I just run away. Just pack it all up, you know, say to hell with Traverson and whatever else I've got planned. Be all romantic. Run off to live with you.”

“Long ride.”

“Yeah. Yeah, but. You’d be there. You’d be there, all dolled up and giddy, ready to whisk me away to a new life. I’d save and pay my way until we could afford someplace nice. Downtown. Get myself a gig at some club or bar, sing the blues. Or soul.”

“Or nu jazz.”

“Or country rock, even.”

“But you’re getting sidetracked.”

“Hm?”

You feel her eyes on you, feel her shift her weight as she cranes her head upwards. You examine her, taking in the softness of her features. The earnest in her gaze. Her tone, not quite chiding, not quite playful. Those hazel eyes drill into you.

“You said you were scared,” she whispers.

"Did I?"

_Didn’t you?_

_Aren’t you?_

“I’m scared too.”

And what else?

This is when it starts;

Revelation. Recollection.

She’s your first, but you’re far from hers.

She’s bared it all to you before. Each mishap in her past, each golden period. Each romantic encounter, sharp notches on her heart. All the girls that came before. Those that slipped away. Those that clung too tight. Those that could have worked, if given the space and time.

She’s been through the tides of love, its highs and lows. She’s carried it, broken it. Marred and nurtured it.

Learned to let it go.

The names she’s mentioned, collected, swallowed one by one. They're gone but never truly forgotten—

Would you be another?

Realization;

That you’d throw it all away, start anew for her.

That she’s afraid it won’t last.

_And what’s next?_

The room’s fallen still, as if holding its breath along with you. There’s nothing but the downpour, the thunder, the lightning clawing streaks into the night.

She’s torn her gaze from yours, but you’re quick to scoop her into an embrace. Impulse. You cradle her, firmly, until she’s returning your hug with the same fervor. She laughs, something small and tired. Resignation setting in.

_'Let’s take it slow,'_ she’d first said. _'See how things go.'_

But you’ve never been one to fall into anything lightly.

Surely she knows that by now?

“Red, I can’t breathe.” Amused words, murmured on your skin.

“Good. Makes us both.”

Murmurs, your lips at her neck. You breathe her, taste her. Your mouth wanders until she’s caught your kiss with one of her own.

This is how it starts;

Wordless declaration, reassurance through every touch.

_I’m here._

_I’ll stay._

_It’s real._

_It’s okay._

It’ll last, it’ll last.

Even when tomorrow seems unclear.

You’re together now, despite your fears.

This is why it works.


End file.
